Stand Up On Your Own
by Lindie V
Summary: After what happens in Taipei, Sydney must find a way to regain her life and learn to stand up on her own.
1. Chapter 1

"I remember feeling low, I remember losing hope, I remember all the feelings and the day they stopped." Innocent -- Our Lady Peace  
  
  
  
As Sydney Bristow sat strapped into a chair in the center of a generic storeroom in the Taipei Warehouse/Club/secret lair of the Man, her endless cycle of thoughts swirled about her like a whirlwind, suffocating her. She knew it was crucial to maintain her composure. She could not allow this Irina Derevko to break her, or she knew that she would never escape alive. This woman was the scum of the earth. Despite her fervor in her recent quest to find her, Sydney now felt nothing but hatred for this woman.  
  
She, in the last few hours, had learned more about her malicious "mother" than she could stomach. This woman may have been her mother due to DNA, but that term of endearment was a title that she would never deserve. She was ruthless, she was a killer, and Sydney hated her now more than ever.  
  
So much had changed in just a matter of hours. The most devastating blow that left Sydney unable to speak or even move was Vaughn. Sydney could feel in the bottom of her violently emptied stomach that he was gone. And her mother was to blame, whether directly, indirectly, or all of the above. Vaughn, the man she may just have loved most of all and never been able to even so much as act on it or tell him so, was dead, drowned behind the swirling, crushing force of thousands of gallons of inky black water. His terrified face behind the glass, the shatterproof glass that wouldn't break or even crack despite her repeated blows with the fire extinguisher. His frozen form at the end of the hallway, rooted with terror, as he came to check and see if she needed help when they lost radio contact. His tearful, emotional voice at the train station, not even a day before. His piercing green eyes and the way they looked at her, full of concern, full of admiration, and most of all full of love.  
  
That was the third man Sydney had loved to die a painful death this year. All because of her. Danny in the bathtub. Noah in Macay. Now Vaughn in Taipei. And the last two were because of her obsession with this pathetic search for her mother. Laura Bristow. Irina Derevko. The Man. Certified lunatic. Subject of "The Prophecy." FBI Most Wanted, lifetime member.  
  
Then there was the matter of Sark. Revolting, ruthless Sark, a man whose first name she was yet to know. A man who was not just her enemy and a murderer, but as she had recently learned was also her brother. To make matters worse, he had a twin sister. And she was being kept in the dark. Apparently Irina had thought that she only needed one daughter and one son to be in her organization, and those would be Sydney and Sark. This other nameless daughter was away at school somewhere in the States, having never met her father or sister, having no idea that her mother and twin brother are two of the most horrible people to have ever been conceived.  
  
HER MOTHER. Her mother was the man. "The Man." THE FUCKING MAN!!! Her mother had kidnapped Will, kidnapped her, exposed her in critical situations, caused her to be investigated by the DSR because of her genetic line, indirectly caused the deaths of both Vaughn and Noah, and provided her and her father with years of pain and suffering and confusion. Sydney vowed that one day, at her hand, this woman would suffer the ultimate pain. She was not mommy's innocent little girl. She had the power and the knowledge to destroy this woman and her little realm of power and her empire of deep-rooted evil.  
  
Syndey's head snapped to attention as the door opened and Sark proceeded into the room.  
  
"Well, well. It appeared Mummy's little girl isn't such a badass after all."  
  
Sydney remained silent, staring at the floor directly before Sark's shoes.  
  
"Ah, no matter." He took three steps towards Sydney, raising her sullen chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Now let me see a little smile."  
  
Sydney's distracted, emotionless demeanor was all that was displayed by her face. He slapped lightly across the face, not hard enough to bruise, but more than enough to sting quite a bit.  
  
"Come now, you should be overjoyed, reunited with your family once again!" he exclaimed manipulatively. "Your mother, your little brother, your father, my father, all in the same city!"  
  
"Your father?" Sydney inquired, finally looking up at him.  
  
"Yes, my father. I do have one you know." He mocked. "Actually, you've already met him. Your friend Khasinau, you know, subject of your misguided but interesting to watch search for the man. Not a bad guy, but easily controlled. Particularly by women. Just like your father."  
  
Sydney felt the anger boiling up inside her. She snapped and suddenly pulled against her restraints, causing Sark to only laugh, his face inches from hers.  
  
"Temper, temper, missy." He shook his head, laughing to himself.  
  
"You son of a bitch." She uttered in halting, harshly pronounced syllables, not realizing the irony of her very true statement. His response was only a slight tilt of his head and narrowing of the eyes.  
  
"Here you are being mama's little henchman, and you don't even realize that she is just using you too."  
  
"Oh, really?" he countered. "Enlighten me."  
  
"You were born only about six months after my mother faked her death in the states. Sloane told me once that my parents were trying to have more kids just before she died."  
  
"Shut up." Sark yelled angrily.  
  
"No, I'm not finished yet!" Sydney yelled. "You are not my half-brother, you are my full-blooded brother. I put that all together from my little talk with that crazy bitch that you call a mother--"  
  
Sydney felt Sark's fist make contact with her mouth and tasted the metallic tang of blood. She continued on, barely missing a beat, despite the throbbing pain in her jaw.  
  
"Khasinau IS NOT your father--"  
  
"--Shut UP!!!--"  
  
"--but Jack Bristow is!" Sark put his hands over his ears like a child and backed a few steps away from Sydney. Sydney took a moment to take a few deep breaths and calm down a trifle before continuing.  
  
"Your mother may still be your mother, but she had lied to you your entire life, and I'm sure of more than just this. And you unfailingly do each and every thing she tells you to. You are nothing but a slave to her, a little conformist sheep who she has programmed, just like Khasinau."  
  
"STOP IT!!!" Sark screamed. She felt his fist connect with her face again, this time with her temple. "You are a lying sack of shit!"  
  
"No, it's true, and you know it!" Sydney yelled back. One more punch completely knocked Sydney's chair over, causing her to smash her shoulder into the ground. She cried out in pain and Sark circled her like a wolf about to attacked an injured rabbit.  
  
"I don't think your mother will approve of this kind of mistreatment." Sydney said lowly, each word intending to hurt him more and more. Already, years of anger had risen to the surface, his eyes wild and bloodthirsty.  
  
"Well, she's not going to know anything about it. Everyone else is long gone already, before some of your little CIA buddies show up to rescue you. She left me to deal with you."  
  
"I like the way she leaves you behind, in a vulnerable position, potential to get captured, while she runs and hides--" Sydney's stream of angry words was interrupted by a swift kick to the stomach that knocked the wind out of her.  
  
"You know what little missy, I've had quite enough of you." Sark withdrew a roll of duct tape from his pocket and placed a nice strip across Sydney's bleeding mouth. He righted her chair, and stood back, surveying the situation. "There, that will do quite nicely," he commented, quite pleased with his handiwork.  
  
"And now, to teach you a lesson, Miss Bristow." 


	2. Chapter 2

Sydney sat upright in the hard chair and watched as Sark continued to circle her, like a vulture. She avoided looking at him or taking visible offense as his eyes scanned her body, lingering a little too long for her comfort in certain key areas.  
  
She felt his face lower next to hers, for a slight kiss on the cheek. Sydney tried to scream loudly, to rebel, but no sound would come out. He had her trapped.  
  
He casually reached over to the table, now holding nothing but freezing cold soup, and fingered a pair of gleaming silver scissors. Sydney saw them glint sharply even in the dim, diffused yellow light bathing her and the room surrounding her. She closed her eyes as she saw the scissors dip towards her chest.  
  
Her eyes closed, her breath heavy upon the tape that held her voice, fear rattling through her head, she heard the quiet snip snip and the sound of fabric fibers splitting as he neatly began slicing up the side of her shirt. That mesh monstrosity, that poor excuse for decent clothing. The cold air caused her entire body to prickle into goosebumps.  
  
As she felt the scissors continue, cold against her thin frame, her mind flashed to Vaughn. The man that she loved, the man she could not love. His terror-filled green eyes behind the glass. Sydney felt a single salty tear sneak down her cheek, and prayed that Sark wouldn't notice as layers of black eyeliner created a trail down her face.  
  
Sydney felt her body jerk in pain as she felt the scissors close around her skin, on her side, just below her bra. She felt rivulets of blood flow down her lower back, and even snaking down over across her abdomen. She forced her eyes open and looking into Sark's cold face, only inches from hers.  
  
"No crying, my pet," he mummered. He brought his face in closer and licked the tear from her face. Sydney felt her body begin to shake with sobs that she couldn't hold in. Tears soon coursed freely down her dirty cheeks.  
  
"STOP!" he commanded her, striking her across the temple with the butt of his gun just to make his point, toppling the rickety chair. Sydney tried to cry out in pain as she collided headfirst with the cold, unforgiving cement floor. She felt the side of her head bounce off the ground, and within seconds she knew that blood was seeping though not only her own hair, but that hideous blue wig as well.  
  
Stars flying all around, the bright lights baring into Sydney's eyes forced her eyes shut. The room began to spin as she barely even felt Sark's feet begin to ravage her body, focusing on her chest and stomach. It only took one more blow to the head with his heavy, steel-toed boots to knock her from losing consciousness to completely lost. The world become black.  
  
  
  
The first thing Sydney felt was the cold. Her body was racked with shivers before she could even force her eyes open. Her entire face felt swollen, and the entire right side of her body felt sticky with blood, from her head wound, her bleeding temple, and the large cut on her side. Sydney tried to inhale, but knifelike pains in her chest cut her breath short, throwing her into a coughing fit. The metallic taste in her mouth automatically lead Sydney to believe that she was indeed, coughing up blooding. Barely able to raise her head, as the world continued to spin around her, she looking down in horror at her bruised and battered body. She was wearing only her leather bra and pants, and her entire torso was covered in bruises and scrapes; she was also laying on some sort of bed, her feet chained together and to the footboard, her arms to sides.  
  
Giving in to the immediate reaction to struggle, Sydney felt pain course through her body, and her right arm didn't move at all, instead it was only racked by pain. Trying to think back to earlier, she deduced that her shoulder must have become dislocated when she was thrown into the ground and then beaten. Her attempts at screaming remained silenced not only by the tape that still covered her mouth, but the pain in her chest and the immense difficulty in trying to breathe.  
  
Before Sydney could take stock of her newer surroundings, she heard a door be thrown open not far to her right. She gathered enough strength to turn her head and see Sark approaching her.  
  
"Well, nice to see you've decided to awaken. I thought you'd enjoy knowing that I've only begun dealing with you, dearie," he laughed cruelly, the loud noise causing Sydney's head to spin and forcing her eyes to close.  
  
"Hey! I thought I've made this clear! No crying, no sleeping, and no TALKING...." Sydney tried to open her eyes but just couldn't bring herself to, her body filled with not an ounce of energy, only pain, fear, and sorrow. She felt Sark's palm connect sharply with her cheek. She then felt a sharp pain as something plunged into her left inner thigh, forcing her to open her eyes in time to see Sark remove the scissors from her leg and let blood course from the wound all of the way down to her toes. Her entire body throbbed.  
  
He sat on the bed next to Sydney, jostling her body and causing her a significant amount of pain. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the pain and fatigue and dizziness consumed her. Her eyes, however, jerked open as she felt his hands on her body and heard her pants zipper being opened, very, very slowly. She saw her fear-stricken gaze connect with his cold stare, and saw his expression turn to one of torturous amusement.  
  
He began to roll her tight pants off her sticky, blood-soaked, swollen legs, ever-so slowly. Her lacy black translucent thong was soon in sight, but the pants continued slowly down, snagging only slightly on the torn wound still pulsing on her thigh. He savagely tore the pants off of it, causing the forming clot to break free and the blood to flow once again. Soon the pants were at her ankles, then entangled in the chains that held her down, and now as Sydney noticed in terror, kept her legs apart.  
  
Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks, mixing with blood and dirt and previous tears. She tried to keep her body as still as possible as she felt the sobs come out, as any movement, even a breath was excruciating.  
  
She felt Sark's hot breath on her cheek as he kissed her mouth through the tape, then the tip of her nose, her cheek, her earlobe, her forehead. She felt a sickening trail of warm kisses trail from her neck, down her chest and stomach. She fought the urge to vomit and felt odd relief that she had been too apprehensive to eat on the plane. As she felt a warm, sticky tongue encircle her navel, she felt two hands pull frantically at the side of her underwear. Within seconds, they too were part of the clothing pile around her feet.  
  
As Sark's mouth continues to ravage her body and sicken her, his hands were removing his own clothing. As she felt him, stiff and warm against her thigh Sydney's eyes opened in shock and she nearly began to hyperventilate. Her eyes darted around the room for any possible means of escape, anything she could grab, anything she could use as a weapon. She had begun to struggle once again, adrenaline masking the pain in her body. Then she felt him savagely enter her, causing pain to shoot from her hips to her neck. She let out a cry even audible from behind her gag.  
  
Her insides were burning, tearing, she could feel herself bruising. Her mind was in agony, images of Vaughn, Danny, her father, and even her mother flashing before her eyes. She tried to kick, to fight, to scream, but her body could not and would not cooperate.  
  
Just as Sydney felt as if she literally was going to die, her body being ripped apart by pain and emotion and him -- this cruel, disgusting man, HER BROTHER -- she felt him tense and release inside her, causing the bile to continue to rise in her throat. She tried to close her eyes and just pretend that none of this was happening, but all she could she was him, on top of her, penetrating her. Raping her.  
  
He collapsed on top of her chest, sweaty and disheveled. His dead weight against her chest caused her even more pain and made it even more difficult to breathe, gasping behind the duct tape.  
  
"I must say, sis, not half bad." Sydney's head spun at his words.  
  
Sydney looked around frantically as he appeared to be falling asleep atop her, exhausted. Continuing to fight for breath, she noticed Sark's white button-down just inches away from her right arm. She willed her body to move her fingers, and despite the massive pain from her shoulder, she felt them wiggle slightly. Slowly she moved, consumed by pain, until her fingers grasped the fabric of the chest pocket. There was something small and hard inside. She achingly slowly, and excruciatingly carefully, maneuvered her fingers inside until she felt them grasp a tiny key.  
  
Hoping and praying, she moved her wrist and with quickening motion, tried to fit the key into the keyhole on her wrist. She felt the key click into place, but a wave of pain forced her to let go and return her wrist to its normal position. She tried to move it again, but the entire side of her body was paralyzed by pain. She could see that the key remained in the keyhole, but the matter in question was, how to turn it.  
  
Sydney slowly pushed her entire arm towards the side of the bed, trying to force her arm to move by pushing it with her chest. She felt the key hit the side of the bed, and then went about rotating her wrist, nearly crying out in pain. She tried to remain as subtle and silent as possible, in fears that Sark would awaken.  
  
Just when Sydney was about to give up, she heard a slight click and felt her wrist snap free. She tried to lift her arm, but it was virtually useless and she knew she had further damaged it by trying to free herself. Freeing another limb would be impossible. She continued to scan the room with her eyes for any hope.  
  
That was when she spotted his shoulder holster, lying just within reach on a night table. She forced her fingers to slowly walk over to it until they could grasp the weapon. Sydney ignored the pain as she slid the weapon back towards her body. Unable to lift her arm, she awkwardly rolled it onto her chest, next to Sark's head.  
  
Her entire body shaking, she reached up with the last bit of strength she held in her body to cock the weapon. At the sound Sark's eyes shot open and he looked, confused, into Sydney's battered and bloodied face. With that she pulled the trigger directly into his temple. The blast threw his body into the wall next to her. Sydney's shaking hand could barely hold onto the weapon, but she knew she had to hold on just a little longer. She next aimed it at the chain keeping her left arm bound, and fired, breaking her arm free. With that she dropped the weapon from her barely usable arm, pain radiating through it, and sought about finding the key somewhere on the other side of her body.  
  
Although it was awkward using her left hand, she quickly unchained her feet, sobbing hysterically, then unclasped the handcuff from her left wrist. Next she ripped the blood-soiled duct tape from her face, and was astonished by how loud her cries were. Sydney could barely sit up, and slammed her left arm down onto Sark's cold, stiffening body in order to bring herself into a sitting position. She cautiously swung her legs off of the side of the bed, even that slight movement causing stars to appear and a wave of dizziness to overtake her. Sydney managed to remain conscious, and tried to untangle her pants from the mess at the foot of the bed. She could hardly manage to get them on, as the majority of her body was swollen and bruised, she could scarcely breathe, and was forced to use her non- dominate hand only. As she tried to pull them up, she could feel her entire lower body, sticky with blood and him. As she reached her thighs, she cried out in pain and emotion, her body was so sore, and all she could think about was him. Inside her, violating her. She stood on shaky, rubbery legs and turned around. She looked one last time at his still body before grabbing his gun, it's weight heavy in her left hand, and then started for the door, leaning on all available furniture along the way.  
  
As she struggled to remain upright, she tried to assess her injuries, but it took all she had in her just to remain conscious and not pass out. As she reached the door, Sydney stopped. Sark had told her several hours ago that everyone else had gone, and only he had been left to deal with her in case anyone came for her. But she didn't know exactly how much faith to put in him, as he had just brutally raped and beaten her. She tried to focus her mind, raised the unfamiliar weapon, and readied herself to face whatever (or whoever) might be waiting for her. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sydney flung the door open and tried to move quickly into the hallway, but it turned out as nothing more than a slow shuffle. Luckily, the hallway appeared deserted, as did the remainder of the building, judging by the television screens that filled the wall. Each security camera appeared to have its own quarter-screen, and Sydney scanned them all. Just as Sydney began to trust Sark's word that only he was left, she saw a figure dressed in black on a screen far away to her right. Leaning against the wall to support herself, she edged down the hall until she could see the image better.  
  
Sydney felt her breath catch in her throat.  
  
"Vaughn," she whispered, running her palm across the screen. Fresh tears began to course down her cheeks, and for the first time in hours, not for her. His figure was sprawled on a rather wet looking hallway floor, apparently lifeless. Sydney felt her legs begin to grow weak as she slumped to the floor, her broken, bloodied body wracked with uncontrollable sobs as she began to drift out of consciousness.  
  
Sydney, however, collapsed about five seconds too soon to see the figure from the camera begin to stir.  
  
  
  
Vaughn forced his eyes to open as he began to cough water from his sore lungs. He was lying on a hallway floor, and tried to get a sense of his surroundings. He was wet, he was cold, and he felt bruised and sore all over. For a moment he couldn't remember where he was or how he got there. Then it all came flashing back. Sydney rounding the corner, followed by a tidal wave of water. His body being thrown violently against the door, the air crushed out of him. Sydney's terror-filled face as she valiantly tried to rescue him, only to be overtaken by guards she had never seen coming.  
  
He pulled himself to a sitting position, ignoring the pain and stiffness in his limbs, and looked down at his watch. It was almost six hours after he and Sydney had started their mission. More than five hours after they were supposed to meet up with Jack and hopefully Will.  
  
Vaughn pulled his cellular phone from his jacket pocket and attempted to dial, not realizing that it had been drowned just as he had been. He angrily threw the useless piece of plastic against the wall. He slowly rose and proceeded down the hallway towards the watertight door and contemplated how to get out. Obviously, trying to break the glass would not work.  
  
His eyes scanning the wall, he took note of the electrical box to the left of the door, obviously the force behind its opening and closing. He quickly withdrew his gun and fired a round. The door sprang to life and squeaked open. Vaughn slid out, his weapon drawn, but confusingly, all hallways seemed to be deserted.  
  
Unsure of what to do next, Vaughn made his way down the hall straight ahead, then began making a series of random turns. He came to an open door, and silently snuck inside. It appeared to be a control room of some sort, and deserted as well. There were a few security monitors to his left, but he didn't see anyone or much of anything on any of them either. He noticed a phone on the desk and quickly did the only thing he could think of -- dialed Jack Bristow.  
  
  
  
Jack sat apprehensively on the hood of the Mercedes SUV. Will Tippin was passed out in the back seat. Jack had been content to give him just a pain killer, but after about forty-five minutes he decided to just drug him and shut him up. He preferred to agonize over where his daughter and Agent Vaughn were in silence, rather than listen to his psychotic babblings.  
  
Despite his calm and collected exterior, he nearly jumped about ten feet when he heard his cellular phone begin to ring. He fumbled around for it in his jacket pocket, and held it to his ear.  
  
"Bristow."  
  
"Jack -- it's Vaughn."  
  
"Where the hell are you?" he inquired impatiently. "Do you have any idea how long--"  
  
"Is Sydney with you?" Vaughn interrupted.  
  
"No. I thought she was with you! Do you mean to tell me--"  
  
"Jack! Listen. Sydney and I lost radio contact while she was in the lab, supposedly destroying the Mueller device. I came to check on her and find out what the hell was going on, and I only got into the entry hallways to the lab in time to see Sydney come flying around a corner, followed by a torrential wave of water. I froze and she was screaming at me to run, but I was just standing there. She slammed into me, which caused my brain to begin working again and I ran behind her. The watertight doors were closing and Sydney just barely squeezed out and tried to hold the door open for me, but she couldn't. It slammed shut and I was still on the wrong side of the door. I was nearly crushed by the water, and she was trying to break the glass in the door with a fire extinguisher when guards came up behind her and she couldn't figure it out when I was trying to warn her. That's all I can remember. I just came to a few minutes ago and found a phone."  
  
"How many guards are there? Do you have any idea where Sydney might be?" Jack inquired urgently.  
  
"I was about to ask you the same thing. I haven't seen a single person here. Either the warehouse is now deserted and everyone has left, and they've taken Sydney with them, or this is some kind of elaborate trap. Or maybe she escaped on her own, but I doubt that she would've gone this long without contacting you if that was the case." Vaughn pondered aloud.  
  
"I'm coming down there." Jack told him. Vaughn heard the distinct sound of a car engine firing up and peeling out of wherever he may have been. He also heard what sounded like a faint moan.  
  
"Wait a minute...Will. Is that Will? Is he okay?"  
  
"I think he'll survive, although I believe he's had the joy of having some teeth extracted by Sydney's friend from the last time she was here."  
  
"Jack, I'm going to keep looking around. If Sydney's here, I'll find her."  
  
"Please do. Vaughn...I don't know what I'd do without her."  
  
"Me either."  
  
The pair of men held the phones up to the ears, but no one said a word. 


	4. Chapter 4

Vaughn began to pace. He knew that Sydney Bristow, the love of his life, was out there somewhere, possibly captured, possibly hurt, possibly tortured. And she probably thought he was dead.  
  
He buried his face in his hands and ran them through his hair. He took a deep breath and leaned his elbows on the table in front of the camera monitors, watching the images change every few seconds, as he had no idea where to start his search. Each security camera had its own number, but the numbers made no logical sense to him and wouldn't help him, even if he could actually locate some person or sign of life inside.  
  
Just then, he thought he saw a flash of black and light tan on one of the monitors. Almost as if a body were lying on a floor somewhere. But before he got even a remotely good look, the images changed. Vaughn stood and waited, his breath caught in his throat, eyes fixated on the screen. The image came up in about forty seconds and he hit a green button on the table, freezing the current images on the screens.  
  
Sydney.  
  
Lying on a hallway floor somewhere, also near a wealth of security monitors. Blood was everywhere.  
  
"No," Vaughn whispered out loud as one solitary tear snaked down his cheek. She couldn't be dead.  
  
And with that he took off. Running faster than he ever had in his life through the abandoned hallways, screaming Sydney's name, despite the fact that she was either dead or unconscious. He made turn after turn, glancing down each hall he didn't search. Twice he made it to exit doors, but he simply turned around to search more. Sydney was here, and she was most definitely hurt, if not dead.  
  
"SYDNEY!" he screamed in agony, his voice cracking. All the hallways began to look the same, leaving Vaughn with no clue as to his bearing in the building, or even if he had already been here.  
  
He came skidding around a corner, turning right down the next corridor, when he froze.  
  
"Sydney..." he whispered.  
  
He ran to her side and kneeled next to her, and grabbed for her right wrist. It was puffy and swollen and he was having trouble finding a pulse, so he tried her left arm instead.  
  
"Oh thank God," he said out loud, breathing out a sigh of relief when he did find a heartbeat. "Oh, God, Syd." He let his eyes look over her body, and carefully rolled her over to try to assess her injuries. In panic, he first thought that someone had shot her in the head, but luckily it was just a nasty gash that apparently had been bleeding profusely. Her once light blue wig was mostly now a matted reddish-brown. Her tiny body was covered in bruises and blood. Her entire exposed torso was scraped up pretty badly and almost appeared to be one massive bruise. Judging by the extent of the bruises along her chest, she probably had a few broken ribs. Her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, as if she had been handcuffed or tied. He eased her eyelids open and -- oh, those beautiful honey-colored eyes -- her right pupil appeared to be far more dilated than her left. Not a good sign, probably indicated a concussion. There was a nasty cut on her side, as well as a hideous looking torn wound in her thigh. Apparently she had been stabbed with something, but from the looks of the wound, it wasn't something very sharp, as it simply tore the flesh raggedly instead of simply cutting it cleanly. He felt her for broken bones, and she appeared to be okay in that department, minus the ribs, but something seemed wrong with her right shoulder.  
  
Tears were snaking down Vaughn's cheek, despite his best effort to hold them in. "Sydney..." he whispered again, smoothing hair from her face and tucking it gently behind her ears. Noticing her lack of decency, he removed his long black jacket, which was finally almost dry, and wrapped it around her. Then he scooped her up in strong arms, amazed at how light she was. She barely weighed anything at all.  
  
This movement, caused Sydney to stir slightly. Vaughn looked her deep in the eyes and caressed her swollen, bloody cheek with his hand. Her eyelids fluttered open briefly and she looked up at him.  
  
"Vaughn..." she rasped. "You're...you're..." she was unable to continue.  
  
"Shhh, baby, shhh. Try not to talk, ok? I know you're hurt pretty bad, but I don't know how bad. Your dad's on the way, sweetie. We're getting out of here. Everything's gonna be ok," he tried to reassure her.  
  
"Vaughn," she whispered softly, in a voice that made his heart turn.  
  
"Sydney?"  
  
"I....I love you."  
  
"I love you too." Vaughn planted a kiss on her sticky forehead, which was ice cold with sweat.  
  
Sydney then drifted back into the land of unconsciousness. Vaughn could barely move. He was nearly in shock from what Sydney had finally told him. Then he began to move. Quickly. They had to find a way out, and get Sydney help as soon as possible. 


	5. Chapter 5

Jack Bristow brought the car to a screeching halt in the now deserted parking lot alongside the warehouse. The sudden stop caused Will to begin to stir in the backseat. He began murmuring unintelligible gibberish. Jack reached on the seat next to him, took hold of the tranquilizer gun, and took perverse pleasure in shooting Will in the chest. It was his damn curiosity and stupidity and nosiness that had created this mess in the first place. Now his daughter was who knows where, or for lack of anyone better to blame, he decided Will would suffice for the time being.  
  
He loaded his weapon and placed it in his shoulder holster, turning off the safety. He stepped carefully out of the car, locking all of the doors, and looking in one last time to make sure Tippin was indeed knocked out and out of sight. Then he began to move slowly, cautiously towards the building.  
  
He removed a card splice from his jacket pocket, and gained easy admittance to the laboratory. His weapon drawn, he entered the building, the door closing slowly behind him. Glancing down the plethora of hallways displayed in front of him, the building did actually appear to be deserted. He turned left and took off. Agent Vaughn (and hopefully his daughter) were somewhere in the building.  
  
  
  
Vaughn rounded a corner, attempting to make his way back towards the last exit he could remember seeing, but this maze of identical hallways was deeply confusing. Sydney remained limp and unconscious in his arms.  
  
  
  
Jack came upon a hallway full of security monitors, and he scanned them briefly before noticed a discarded handgun next to a pool of blood on the ground. He felt the spot with his fingertips. Not quite dry yet, still relatively fresh. He entered the adjacent room, only to be overwhelmed by the stench that met his nostrils. It smelled of death, and blood, and human. He raised his gun and whirled around, only to see Sark's dead, naked body on the bed, a bullet to the head. Checking the weapon, he noted that two rounds had been fired, then noticed the second slug embedded in the wall at the level of the bed. He noted that its purpose had been to break apart some sort of chain.  
  
Disgusted, but relieved to see that someone had finally killed that bastard, Jack left the room to examine the security monitors. The moment he stepped out the door, he heard someone cock a gun directly at his head. He froze.  
  
"Jack!" It was Vaughn. He quickly lowered his weapon.  
  
"Is...is she?" Jack asked, barely able to speak.  
  
"No, no she's alive...but we have to get her out of here. Fast."  
  
Jack was sickened by the visible extent of her daughter's injuries. It still pained him to see that she had ever been brought into this life, and even more so once her friends were mixed up in it, even if he never chose to show it.  
  
"What the hell happened?" he asked Vaughn huskily, his eyes pleading. Vaughn could see the pain in this man's eyes, and if this was what Jack Bristow was showing on the outside, Vaughn only knew what he could be feeling on the inside.  
  
"I have no idea," Vaughn admitted. "I found her, right here, and I was trying to find a way out, but I think I just kept making circles. Then I heard you and thought that you were someone who had come back to kill us."  
  
"So you don't know anything about Sark?" "Sark? No. Is he here?"  
  
"Actually, he's dead. Right in there. Someone executed him, close range shot to the head."  
  
"Good riddance."  
  
"Follow me." And with that Jack Bristow led the way back out of the building, with Vaughn still cradling his daughter in his arms.  
  
Jack dialed the number of their transport plane and began barking orders.  
  
"Wait, I think we need to get Sydney to a hospital now--" Vaughn began to argue.  
  
"It's not safe here. Khasinau knows that we are in Taipei, so we can't put her in a hospital here. It's not safe."  
  
"What about a safe house? I'm sure there are some in Taipei, and we can get a doctor there for her."  
  
"Agent Vaughn, listen to me. It is not safe to be here. We have to risk taking her back to L.A. We both have field medical training. I'm sure our training will suffice. Her injuries look bad, yes, but nothing life threatening."  
  
Vaughn knew that arguing was just futile, a waste of air, and as it still hurt him to breathe a bit, he gave in to Jack's orders.  
  
"From a quick once over, it looks like she's got a head injury, a concussion, a pretty deep cut in her side, a stab wound to the thigh, wrist and ankle surface injuries, and a dislocated shoulder." Jack tried to hold back tears. Sydney deserved none of this. He wished from the depth of his heart, despite all the good she was now doing and the bad she was destroying, that she still thought he sold airplane parts. But he knew that he had to remain strong, as Vaughn looked as if his heart was about to rip in two as well. He knew that Vaughn was in love with his daughter, and he admired his attempts to not reveal this or act on it. He also knew that his daughter was in love with Vaughn. He knew what love could do to anyone in the business, and what it had done to him. Emotion was a weakness, and love was even worse.  
  
As the two men ran from the building, Jack opened the doors to the backseat to lay Sydney in, almost forgetting that Will was in there. The two men awkwardly rolled him into the trunk area, and Jack grabbed a large first aid kit.  
  
"It's not much," he admitted. "But please, do whatever you can." With that, Jack clambered into the front seat, and Vaughn into the back with Sydney, and they took off for the airstrip. 


	6. Chapter 6

Jack slammed on the brakes, bringing the SUV to a screeching halt on the tarmac of a generic airstrip in Taipei. A cargo jet, similar to the one that had brought them there was awaiting their arrival. Jack leaped from the driver's seat. Vaughn climbed out of the backseat.  
  
"I'll take Sydney," Jack ordered. "Open the back and get Tippin the hell out of there." Jack gathered Sydney in his arms and started for the plane.  
  
Vaughn would have much rather been in charge of Sydney's care, rather than nosy, obnoxious, jealousy-inducing Will, but for the sake of obedience he went around to the back of the car and opened the back. He stared at Will's well-drugged body for a moment, contemplating how to get him on the plane. Carrying Sydney around had been easy; she weighed maybe 115 pounds, if that. Will however, appeared to be taller and probably heavier than Vaughn, and far too gone to be of any help at the moment. He half dragged, half lifted him out of the trunk, nearly dumping his leaden form against the asphalt. He then picked up across his shoulders, wounded-soldier style and began a slow stagger towards the plane, trailing Jack by quite a distance.  
  
The plane was ready to take off as soon as all four passengers had been brought aboard. Someone slammed the door shut behind them, pounded upon it twice with a heavy fist, and the jet engines roared to life as the plane began its journey down the runway.  
  
Vaughn unceremoniously dropped Will onto the ground atop a few blankets, but he was far too sufficiently drugged to take any notice. Jack had already laid Sydney down on some sort of cot. Vaughn had worked on cleaning some of her wounds in the car, but he wasn't nearly finished.  
  
He approached Sydney, who appeared to be sleeping oddly peacefully, as Jack ransacked a number of medical kits that the plane was carrying. Vaughn immediately dove in to help.  
  
Jack reached for a pair of scissors and cut the leg off of Sydney's leather pants, as high as he could, carefully peeling them off of her stab wound. He set to trying to cleanse it as best as he could, and then moved on to bandaging it. He could tell that Sydney definitely had some muscle damage, but if she was lucky the injury had not grazed her femur as well.  
  
Vaughn, in the meantime, set to work trying to remove Sydney's hideous blood-matted once blue wig. Dried blood had crisped it in places both to her scalp and her real hair underneath. He eventually did get it removed, and was now able to expose Sydney's head wound. The gash was torn and ugly. Even looking at it caused him to wince. Luckily, it didn't appear to be too deep, and had stopped bleeding, but it had obviously given her some degree of a concussion. He cleaned the gash on the side of her head tenderly, then closed it with butterfly bandages. He next began to wipe all the blood and grime away from her face, focusing also on the cut on her temple and her swollen lip.  
  
Neither man said a word. They both worked at frantic pace, trying to do whatever they could for Sydney. They both loved her. They both needed her to survive in order for them to survive.  
  
Jack finished bandaging Sydney's stab wound, and set to work trying to wipe the blood off of her leg. As he worked his way up her inner thigh, he was slightly confused. The blood from the stab wound appeared to stop about six inches or so from the top of her thigh, yet the top of her thighs were also sticky with blood. After beginning to wipe that off, he could clearly see that the area underneath was badly bruised and swollen. Years of field experience told him immediately that such could only mean one thing.  
  
His daughter had been raped.  
  
The sudden sharp realization hit him with the same crushing force as the tidal wave of water that had crushed Agent Vaughn just seven or so hours earlier. He stumbled slightly backwards, grabbing onto some shipping crates to support himself.  
  
Vaughn looked up, startled at Jack's sudden movements. What shocked him was to see Jack's expression. From a man who made consistent effort to display no emotion whatsoever, it quite literally frightened him to see the mixture of anger, fear, and disgust that spread across his face.  
  
"What the -- Jack, are you ok?" Vaughn inquired urgently. Jack turned and ran towards the bathroom at the front of the plane. He winced at the sounds of violent retching that could be heard even back in the cargo area. Vaughn closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to work on the cut on Sydney's side. Jack returned within a few minutes, still looking ill and somewhat shaken. Vaughn looked into his face with concern, but he held up his hand, as if to signal that he was alright.  
  
The men went back to work.  
  
  
  
It had been six hours since they had left the ground in Taipei. Jack and Vaughn had barely said a word to each other. Will remained in his quite uncomfortable looking position had Vaughn had dropped him upon entrance, having not yet stirred in the slightest. Sydney was still unconscious, and although she showed no signs of worsening, she also showed no signs of improving. She still lay on the cot, her body hidden beneath a blanket. Vaughn sat at her side, holding her uninjured hand and gazing into her puffy, battered face. Jack sat a little off to the side, by himself, varying between gazing with horror and concern at his daughter and burying his head in his hands. Vaughn constantly racked his brain, trying to think of something he could do or say for Jack Bristow. All those years of forced apathy had taken a more massive toll on him that Vaughn ever could have guessed, and it now appeared that they were causing him to suffer some sort of breakdown. At one point, Vaughn even thought that Jack was crying, but he averted his eyes and thoughts, as an attempt to not only avoid embarrassing and humiliating this broken man, but also to try to maintain his own composure. And he was walking a fine line at that.  
  
Vaughn arose, and went though a series of stretches. His entire body ached from his near-drowning, and sitting in one uncomfortable position for hours certainly was not helping. He then checked Sydney's vital signs for about the twelfth time since they had boarded the plane.  
  
"Jack?" Vaughn asked.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You and Sydney don't by some off chance have the same blood type, do you?"  
  
"Yes, we do, actually."  
  
"Her blood pressure is still awfully low, and she's obviously lost a lot of blood." Vaughn reached into one of the medical kits and withdrew a blood bag, tossing it Jack's direction. "Care to donate?"  
  
Without so much as a word, Jack rolled up his sleeve, plunged the needle into the crook of his elbow, and opened the valve on the tube connected the needle to the bag. It slowly began to fill. He quickly disappeared back into his isolationist world.  
  
Vaughn sat back down. He rubbed his temples and sighed, hanging his head in his hands. How had what originally seemed a relatively simple rescue mission gone so far awry? Vaughn suspected he had already been removed as Sydney's handler, and suspended from active duty, if not fired. It was a distinct possibility that he might never see Sydney again once they disembarked in Los Angeles. He reached over and grasped her hand tighter than before, and then raised it to his lips and gave her long, beautiful fingers a soft kiss. Also, he had no one way of knowing the true extent of Sydney's injuries. There was a remote possibility that she would never wake up. Also, her cover could already be blown, and a price established for head, and possibly Jack's as well. To make matters worse, he and Jack had no idea what had occurred in Taipei, so they had no information to deduce from. He sighed in frustration, at this helpless situation. There was nothing to do but sit and wait. 


	7. Chapter 7

The plane touched down at Los Angeles International Airport in the dead of night. As it taxied its way down the maze of runways to its arrival point, Vaughn snuck a glance out of a small window near the main door. He could see the CIA teams waiting for them on the tarmac, as well as two ambulances, lights flashing like beacons against the muggy night sky. Vaughn simply shook his head in amazement. He had no idea how Jack Bristow could get this kind of support response for an unsanctioned mission which involved stealing from a CIA storage facility where one of the victims was a civilian, but it was just further proof that he certainly still had a great deal to learn about his job.  
  
Will had since returned to the land of the conscious, although he was still plenty drugged with painkillers to have virtually no grasp of what was going on around him. That was Jack's intention in the first place, and it was quite acceptable from Vaughn's point of view. The less Tippin remembered tomorrow, the less that would have to be explained to him in great detail.  
  
Before the plane came to its recommended full and complete stop, Vaughn was cradling Sydney is his arms once again, ready to disembark, and Jack was helping Will to stand. They waited together, still in shock-induced stunned silence, which they had maintained for the majority of their transoceanic flight.  
  
The door swung open, away from them, and in the glare of the bright lights of the airstrip, Vaughn was relieved to note that the first face he saw back in the States was that of his best friend and partner, Eric Weiss. And for once, that instead of being filled with anger and due reprimand, it instead showed only deep sorrow and concern. Vaughn stepped past him, and moved down the steps as quickly as he could while maintaining his balance, avoiding jostling Sydney as much as possible. Weiss and Jack navigated a rather delirious Will down the stairs behind him. Vaughn reached the awaiting EMS crews as quickly as possible.  
  
"What have we got here?" someone asked as Vaughn laid Sydney down on a stretcher.  
  
He rubbed his eyes wearily before giving them the rundown of her suspected injuries. "Head wound, concussion, bruised or possibly broken ribs, severe bruises and cuts and possible internal injuries, stab wound to the thigh, dislocated shoulder, and wrist and ankle injuries consist with restraints."  
  
Vaughn himself felt just about ready to keel over as the crew began loading Sydney into the ambulance.  
  
"Can I come along?" he pleaded, his eyes desperate.  
  
"No room," an EMT informed him. "Meet us at the hospital." And with that the back doors of the ambulance slammed, and it roared off into the night, sirens blaring. Looking briefly to his left, he saw Will being eased into the neighboring ambulance.  
  
Vaughn was rooted to the ground, staring blankly at the ambulance as it shrank in the distance. He felt a hand clamp his shoulder. He slowly turned. Weiss.  
  
"I'm sorry man."  
  
"For what," Vaughn asked distractedly.  
  
"For going to Devlin, especially for incredibly selfish reasons. For not being there with you in Taipei, when I should have. For not taking your advice and throwing that damn little protocol book in the fireplace years ago. For letting you down--"  
  
"You didn't let me down," Vaughn interjected. "Maybe you disappointed me a little, but I'm sure I deserved it after all the crap I've dragged you through recently."  
  
"Oh, and for not offing Haladki when I had the chance."  
  
"I'm all for throwing all of my anger management seminars out the window. Let's go, we'll kill the bastard together."  
  
Weiss just looked at Vaughn with an unreadable expression.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Bristow didn't tell you?"  
  
"No, she didn't tell me anything. She's never even met Haladki, I don't think."  
  
"Not Sydney, Jack. Haladki was Khasinau's mole in the CIA. He revealed Jack and Sydney. He exposed Will. Jack figured it all out, tortured him to confession, and killed the bastard before you guys left. I know that I, for one, and you, for two, will have little to say at his funeral besides good riddance."  
  
Jack approached the two men as Will's ambulance departed. "They're being taken to the CIA hospital in North Hollywood," he informed them. "And I think they'd like to check you out as well." Weiss actually saw the concern in Jack's eyes, and couldn't help but wonder exactly what had gone on between these two in Taipei.  
  
Vaughn just stood, still staring off into space. He had ignored the pain in his body for so long that he was basically numb, both emotionally and physically. As he contemplated Jack's words, he felt the screaming pain in his chest come roaring back to life. He stumbled a little, as if he were about to faint, but felt Weiss's steady hands catch him.  
  
"Whoa, buddy, you ok? No passing out on me. Come on, let's go get you checked out." Jack and Weiss led Vaughn to an awaiting car, which sped off after the ambulances.  
  
"So what the hell happened in Taipei?" Weiss asked the two men, who were in the most shaken and distant conditions he had ever seen either in. Although after seeing what condition Sydney and Will were in, he could almost understand why. "The CIA has pretty much accounted for all that happened up until the time you got off of that plane, but after that is a mystery to us all."  
  
"I met with Sark in a pre-specified alley, and traded the page for Tippin. We waited at our meet point for several hours, without a word from either Vaughn or Sydney. About six hours after we separated, I got a call from Vaughn. He had come to only to find the building deserted. He searched for any sign of who had been there, or where Sydney might be and who might have her while I was on my way. I was searching the building for them, when I found Sark, shot through the head. Shortly after I ran into Sydney and Vaughn and we got the hell out of Taipei." Jack offered.  
  
"So what went wrong with the mission?" Weiss inquired. Vaughn didn't respond. Weiss shook him by the shoulders, and he snapped back to life.  
  
"Everything was going according to plan, but while Sydney was supposed to be in the lab destroying the Circumference, we lost radio contact. I went to check on her, and I rounded a corner in the entry hallway to the lab, when the entire building shook as if there was an earthquake or something. I saw Sydney come flying around the corner in front of me, followed by some monstrous tidal wave of water, straight out of 'Titanic' or something. I just froze. I couldn't move. I was...I was terrified. Sydney's was screaming at me to turn around and go. Finally she reached me and ran straight into me, grabbed me by my jacket and turned me around, which started me running after her. At the end of the hall, there was a watertight safety door, which was closing, I guess because some sort of lockdown had been activated for the lab. Sydney was ahead of me, so she made it out in time, but just barely, and she tried to hold the door for me but she couldn't stop it from closing just as I slammed into it. The water hit me and smashed me up against the wall, and Sydney tried to break the glass in the door with a fire extinguisher. I was signaling for her to go and to leave me...but...she wouldn't stop. She was beating the glass, over and over and over again, but it just wouldn't break. I was running out of air when I saw some guards run up behind her. That's the last thing I remember, until I woke up on the hallway floor. I started searching the building, and when I was able to find a phone, I called Jack, in hopes that Sydney was with him, but she wasn't. So I started searching, and I found Sydney on a hallway floor, passed out. When I picked her up, she stirred for a minute or so. She was alert and she was talking to me, but then she slipped back under and she's been out since. Jack found us, led us out, and took us to the plane."  
  
Vaughn felt the car roll to a stop, and heard the engine turn off. Someone opened the door to the car and helped him out. Weiss emerged after him, and helped him walk inside.  
  
"Let's go see how Sydney's doing first, then we'll go get you looked at," Weiss suggested. Vaughn tried to nod in response, but he was so exhausted from his long-winded explanation and hours without rest, full of nothing but anguish, that he nearly fainted again. Weiss steadied him, and looked into his face with concern.  
  
"Or maybe we should get you a doctor now--"  
  
"No!" Vaughn commanded with all the strength he could muster. "Sydney."  
  
Weiss resigned, and began leading him into the trauma center of the emergency, where Sydney was being evaluated. 


	8. Chapter 8

"Well," the doctor said with a smile, as he returned with Vaughn's chest x- rays. "I think you're gonna live."  
  
"Goddamn it," Weiss sighed, pushing Vaughn's wheelchair. He jumped out the way just before his friends elbow connected with his solar plexus. Weiss, could tell, however, than Vaughn had just cracked his first smile in probably about two days.  
  
"You do have some water in your lungs, but not enough to be too much of a danger. We'll monitor you over the next few days, and hopefully that'll slowly clear up on its own, but if not, we might have to drain you. Two of your ribs are cracked, but for the most part they're just pretty badly bruised. We'll get someone to tape you up in a few minutes. Also, it looks like you bruised your spleen and you have a pretty mild concussion. So in a few weeks you'll be completely fine. But for now, I'd prefer to keep you here so we can observe you, at least for the next 24 hours or so."  
  
"Thank you," Vaughn said as Weiss began pushing him back to the room that had been assigned to him.  
  
"Hey, there's two things I need you to do for me."  
  
"What?" Weiss groaned, almost afraid to ask.  
  
"I need to go to my house and feed my dog. He will be thoroughly pissed at me for not being fed in two days. Also, for god's sake get me some clothes. I am not wearing this thing or that leather getup from Taipei." Weiss smiled.  
  
"No problem man, because you know what? This hospital gown does nothing for your figure."  
  
"If I wasn't in a hospital gown at the moment, I would have already kicked your ass buddy. Now take me to see Sydney, chauffeur."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
  
  
Jack Bristow watched as his daughter slept peacefully, her injuries tended to properly. All he could do was wait. All he wanted was his daughter to wake up so he could go home, shower, and change his clothes. And stop worrying about how long she would be like this.  
  
Her doctor came into the room to check her vital signs, as someone had been doing all night.  
  
"Have you released her list of injuries yet to the CIA?" Jack asked the doctor.  
  
"No, actually, I was just about to go do that right now."  
  
"Well, then perhaps you could do my daughter a favor." The doctor, confused, walked closer to Jack with questioning eyes.  
  
"There is at least one thing on there that I would like you, as a personal courtesy, to remove from the list. My daughter will have enough to deal with when she wakes up, and I don't want everyone around her to already know what has happened to her. She has been through hell and back, and I know she won't exactly be the same for quite some time. But am begging you, to please not list sexual assault on her injury report. I think she would much rather tell who she feels comfortable telling, when she feels comfortable telling them."  
  
Jack realized he had been holding the doctor by his lab coat lapels. He muttered an apology and released him. The doctor sat next to him.  
  
"Sir, believe me, I do understand where you're coming from. I do get lots of female agents in this condition who do request the same thing. But the fact of the matter is that I will lose my job if it is discovered that the perpetrator assaults another agent, and I didn't report an earlier one. There has to be a special warning added to his file."  
  
"The man who did this is dead. Shot through the head. Close range."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure it was Sydney, although I'm not sure."  
  
The doctor sighed resignedly.  
  
"If you tell anyone that I did this for you..."  
  
"Did what?" Vaughn asked as Weiss wheeled him into the room.  
  
"Nothing," Jack responded quickly. The doctor rose and left the room.  
  
"So how is she doing?"  
  
"The doctor's determined that she isn't in a coma, she's just unconscious. Which is very good -- it means she should probably wake up sometime within the next few hours."  
  
Vaughn rose slowly and lowered himself into the chair next to Jack.  
  
"Weiss? Do me a favor and get that infernal thing away from me and for god's sake get me some clothes."  
  
"You got it buddy. I'll be back in about an hour."  
  
"What? You don't enjoy itchy backless hospital gowns?" Jack quipped.  
  
"Actually I have five just like it at home..." Jack smiled. "Holy shit, Jack, you were funny and you smiled, all within ten seconds of each other. Perhaps you need to see Barnett." Vaughn joked, reaching for the phone.  
  
"You know I could take you." Vaughn dropped his hand back into his lap. And he smiled too.  
  
A nurse poked her head into the room. "Mister Vaughn, why aren't you in your room? I've been waiting for you to come back from x-ray so I can tape your ribs."  
  
Vaughn threw a sideways glance at Jack. "Looks like they caught me. Come find me if anything changes." He rose and began to exit the room. He stopped to take one last glance at Sydney, and laid his hand on Jack's shoulder. He felt Jack's hand reach up to rest on top of it for just a brief moment before releasing. And with that, Vaughn exited the room. 


	9. Chapter 9

The first thing Sydney saw was the light. It was so bright it blinded her as her eyelids fluttered open. Her first instinct was to raise a hand to shield her eyes, but her body didn't seem to be cooperating with her brain.  
  
She forced her eyes open, ignoring how they watered from the bright sunlight streaming in her window and the glare of the fluorescent lights overhead. She gazed around slowly. Her world was a blur. She was in a hospital -- hospital bed, too many lights, IV in her arm, hospital gown -- she knew that much. She saw Vaughn seated to her right, in a deeply uncomfortable looking molded plastic chair. He wasn't wearing his usual suit -- just jeans and a light blue button-front. He appeared to be staring intently at his left thumb, rotating it in circles and popping it out of joint.  
  
Vaughn.  
  
Vaughn....behind the window. Everything from Taipei came rushing back, with the full-force of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler. A blow like Sydney had never experienced before. The experience was twice as painful the second time around. Vaughn drowning and Khasinau and Vaughn shoving that creep in the club and her mother and Will and Vaughn frozen at the end of the hallway and Sark...  
  
Sydney bolted nearly straight up in bed, eyes wild. Vaughn rose as he gazed in her direction with confusion and concern. He sat slowly on the bed next to her.  
  
"Syd? Are you okay? Are you in pain? What's wrong?"  
  
Not even knowing where to begin, Sydney opened her mouth to try to respond, but no sound came out. She tried again, but eventually just shook her head. The pain in her eyes and the expression on her face made Vaughn's heart rip nearly in two. He reached for hand. She took it, without moving, and then buried her face in Vaughn's shoulder.  
  
"Syd," Vaughn whispered as he wrapped his strong arms around her. The display of affection caused Sydney to burst into heart-wrenching sobs that shook her entire body. Vaughn only held her tighter.  
  
"Syd...whatever happened, it will be okay, I promise...I'm here for you, and I'm not going to leave you. Not now, not ever." Vaughn hadn't even noticed that he had uttered his words in French. Sydney understood, and although his words intended some sort of comfort, if anything Sydney's tears appeared to come with a renewed fervor.  
  
He lifted his chin and looked her straight in the eyes, their faces only inches apart, hers streaked with tears and his wracked with concern. "Tell me what happened," he pleaded, his eyes searching hers. Her sobs slowed to silent tears, and when she reached for him he gladly took her once again in his arms.  
  
  
  
"Will is doing fine, Sydney. He's at a safehouse nearby, until he can be entered into the Protection Program. He will most certainly be relocated, but he will be safe. He had written a story, and had one of his coworkers hold onto it in case anything happened to him. It was his story about what he had found out about SD-6. We got it yanked from the presses just in time. Speaking of SD-6, Sloane isn't happy about it, but he isn't expecting you to return to work for a few weeks. I explained to him that you called me one night from the airport, telling me you were going to go look for your mother because you couldn't bear just sitting around any longer." Jack paused. His daughter visibly winced, and the tears that had flowed so many times that day began to run again. He stopped, and squeezed her hand. She didn't so much as look his direction.  
  
Sydney's doctor poked his head into the room.  
  
"Mister Bristow, can I see you for a moment." Jack rose and followed the doctor outside.  
  
"I'm sure that given time, she will make a full physical recovery. But she has been awake for nearly 24 hours and she has not spoken a single word. She refuses to eat. I had originally recommended psychoanalysis for her, but if she doesn't even seem to be mentally and emotionally capable of interaction and communication, it isn't going to do her much good." Jack simply nodded, unable to coherently respond. "Also," the doctor said in a low, secretive voice. "There is pressure being put on me to find out what happened in Taipei. You know the type of methods the CIA will use to extract this information from your daughter if they deem it necessary."  
  
"I understand. I will do what I can." Jack said before returning to his daughter's side.  
  
  
  
Vaughn and Jack sat with Sydney long into the night, most of which she spent curled in the fetal position, crying hysterically. At the moment, she was laying her head in Vaughn's lap, who was sprawled across her bed, stroking her hair and clutching her hand.  
  
"Sydney?" Jack pleaded. "Honey, you have to tell us what happened." Sydney looked her father straight in the face and began chewing her thumbnail.  
  
"It's okay Syd. No one can hurt you now," Vaughn whispered soothingly, tucking her hair behind her ear.  
  
"I killed my brother," Sydney whispered. Jack and Vaughn both felt their mouths fly open in shock. But Sydney had no more information to offer. Jack immediately rose and exited into the hallway, cell phone in hand, and Vaughn followed shortly after.  
  
Jack was already on his phone barking orders when Vaughn reached him. He placed his hand over the receiver.  
  
"The CIA team that did a sweep in Taipei brought Sark's body to the lab in the LA field office, didn't they?" Jack questioned.  
  
"Yes, I believe they did."  
  
"Devlin? Call in an order to the lab. Tell to cross-match Sydney's DNA with Sark's." He paused. "Just do it. That's all I have to offer at the moment." He punched his cell phone power button angrily, threw a punch at the wall, and ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
"What the hell do you think is going on, Jack?" Vaughn asked, pacing nervously in the hallway for lack of better ideas.  
  
"If what Sydney said is true, Sark is her brother. Which means that her mother may have been involved with this whole situation somehow."  
  
"Who do you think his father is? Khasinau?"  
  
"That would be my first guess; beyond that, there are a million possibilities."  
  
  
  
Jack and Vaughn sat with Sydney once again, waiting impatiently for the lab results to be phoned to them. Despite their prodding, Sydney had not said another word. A million thoughts raced through their minds, trying to make sense of the situation. Vaughn's cell phone rang suddenly, cutting off the quiet in the room, and causing Sydney to jump about ten feet.  
  
"Vaughn," he answered it wearily, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"It's Devlin. I've got the results. I called you instead of Jack because I'm sure how well he's going to take this..."  
  
"Okay..."  
  
"The results for the test was positive for a DNA match--"  
  
"So they are brother and sister?" Vaughn's face showed nothing but frustration. Sydney looked over at him and caught his gaze. He could see tears streaking down her face.  
  
"Yes, it looks like it. And Vaughn, there's something else. Something that I don't think Bristow was suspecting when he ordered the test." Devlin paused, causing Vaughn a severe case of apprehension. He looked across the room at Jack who was just staring at him, with a look on his face that Vaughn never expected to see from Jack Bristow. "I think he expected Sark to be Sydney's half brother, a child that Laura had with someone else after she faked her death. But Sark appears to be Sydney's full-blooded brother. Jack is his father."  
  
Vaughn didn't remember the end of that conversation. He only remembered dropping the phone in shock. He looked at Jack, visibly shaken, and wondered what the hell he could say to him. He looked to Sydney, who buried her head in her hands and continued to cry.  
  
She knew.  
  
Vaughn waited until she raised her head and was able to look at him again. The look on her face said it all, even though she was no longer crying. She already knew this to be true. But there was still more that she knew. More that was painful to her, more that she couldn't find a way to explain. Vaughn looked at Jack once more. He opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"So," Vaughn began in a husky voice. "It looks like everyone was correct. Sark is Sydney's brother."  
  
Jack looked at if he was just been hit by a semi. But Vaughn continued.  
  
"Also, there's something else. I'm not exactly sure how to tell you this, so I think I'll just cut the crap and get to the point."  
  
Vaughn looked at Sydney one more time, then at Jack. Both were looking at him with shell-shocked looks, hanging on his every word. The relation between them was uncanny.  
  
"I know that you already suspected that Laura, better known as Irina Derevko, was Sark's mother, from what Sydney told us earlier. But something I think she knew, but wasn't able to tell us, was that Sark isn't her half- brother. He is her true brother." Vaughn took a deep breath. "Jack, you're his father. The DNA was a complete match."  
  
Before her father could even react, Sydney climbed out of bed and into his lap, like a little kid clinging to Santa Claus as Christmas. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and together they began to cry.  
  
Vaughn left the room.  
  
"That sick son of a bitch," Jack whispered. "I know, honey, I'm so sorry." Sydney looked into his face with questioning eyes. "No one else knows, only the doctors and me," he assured her. She hugged him tighter and they continued to cry. Jack for what he had just learned and how he knew it affected his daughter, and Sydney not only for that but of the knowledge that she knew would come later.  
  
  
  
When Vaughn returned several hours later, he found Sydney sitting alone in her room, staring at a picture of her parents and her when she was probably about five years old. He had no idea where she had gotten it, nor did he have any inkling of where Jack had disappeared to. He did figure, however, that Jack did have a lot going on in his head and a lot to sort out of the situation, and believed that he was deserving of some time alone.  
  
He sat in his usual chair, by the corner, and watching Sydney as she studied the picture. Suddenly she began to rip it, nearly in half. Then Vaughn saw what she was doing. She was ripping her mother out of the picture. She reached onto a table next to her bedside, grabbing some sort of black marking pen left there by a doctor who had earlier been analyzing her x-rays.  
  
Vaughn stood and then sat next to her to further study what she was doing. She wrote in fat, angry letters across the picture: THE. Then her hand began shaking and she stopped writing. Vaughn gently took hold of her wrist, and the tremors stopped. He looked deep into her eyes, and she calmed down a bit, enough to continue writing. Vaughn felt his eyes widen in shock.  
  
THE MAN. Sydney had written THE MAN across her mother's picture. The man was not Khasinau after all. It was her mother. And God only knew what the hell she had done to Sydney in Taipei. What she had told her. Vaughn wrapped Sydney in his arms, but only for a few brief minutes. Then he rose.  
  
He had to find Jack. He didn't even know where to begin. He searched the entire hospital, roof and all, but there was no sign of Jack anywhere. Even though he had not been officially released from the hospital (that was due to come the next morning), he walked straight out the doors and into the parking lot. He saw Weiss's car, hot-wired it, and drove away quickly.  
  
First he went to Jack's house. He wasn't there. He drove slowly by Sydney's house, but it appeared that no one was even home, and Jack's car was nowhere in sight, so he continued. Jack wasn't answering his cell phone.  
  
Then Vaughn knew. He pulled a quick u-turn and drove as fast as he could. He parked his vehicle next to Jack's, and leapt from the vehicle. Not wanting to disturb anyone else who may have been there, he walked quickly but quietly across the cemetery. He saw Jack, not too far away, staring hard at the ground.  
  
Vaughn felt himself tripping and reached out to the nearest headstone to steady himself, knocking a fresh bouquet of white lilies off of the top. He respectfully picked them up and returned them to their proper place, before glancing at the headstone to read the name that was chiseled upon it  
  
Daniel Hecht.  
  
Vaughn backed away from the stone as if he had been burned. He looked at the flowers, and then looked towards Jack. He withdrew a single lily from the bouquet, and continued towards him.  
  
He was indeed standing at a grave, where the headstone read Laura Bristow. Vaughn knew that the grave beneath them was empty and that the woman who was intended to be buried her indeed was still alive and kicking. He stood next to Jack in silence for a moment before reaching out to place the lily atop the headstone.  
  
"This woman does not deserve your reverence, for she is anything but dead, nor will she ever deserve your respect." Jack began to reach out to remove the flower, but felt Vaughn grab his wrist.  
  
"Laura Bristow died almost twenty years ago. She was the woman you loved, the mother of your child. She deserves our reverence and our respect. However, that woman was not real. It is Irina Derevko that we are now after. It is 'The Man' that we are chasing for those answers we seek." Jack looked at Vaughn, confused at the apparent parallel he was trying to draw between his former wife and Khasinau. Vaughn sighed, reached into his pocket, and withdrew the piece Sydney had torn away from the picture. He looked at it once last time, pressed it into Jack's hand, and turned to go. He squeezed Jack's shoulder knowingly before departing. He began to trudge across the cemetery.  
  
Jack watched him go, almost afraid to look at whatever it was the Vaughn had pressed into his hand. It was a picture of Laura, torn away from a candid someone had taken of the three of them, oh, twenty or so years ago. He noticed Sydney's angry handwriting crossing the photo like black snakes, bringing nothing but evil, but for a moment failed to register the letters the snakes formed.  
  
The he saw: THE MAN. 


	10. Chapter 10

Sydney had been recovering in the hospital for nearly five days. Vaughn had long since been released, although one wouldn't suspect such, as he had barely left the hospital that week. All that remained of his injuries was the dull ache in his chest and the nightmares when he closed his eyes: the haunting visions of the rushing wave of water, the all-consuming fear that the woman he loved was dead, the heart-wrenching images of her just as she looked when he first found her in that hallway in Taipei.  
  
Sydney's injuries were still serious, she was recovering well. Her stitches in her head were due to be removed. The cut on her side was healing nicely, and although she had trouble walking due to her stab wound, it was healing as well. Her broken ribs were painful, but manageable. And although her body was still covered in horrid looking bruises, she would be physically well within a short while. Her emotional state, however, was questionable. She had only spoken one sentence since her return to the land of consciousness, and was still refusing to eat. Her doctors saw no other option than to provide her with nutrients and water intravenously. Although Sydney was clearly lucid, understood what was going on around her, she was clearly in a damaged mental state.  
  
Jack and Vaughn stood together in the hallway, drinking bad coffee.  
  
"So they're going to release her tomorrow," Vaughn stated.  
  
"I heard," Jack responded. Both men stared straight ahead, not really looking at each other or much of anything.  
  
"Where is she going to go? While she finishes recovering?" Vaughn asked.  
  
"I have no idea," Jack admitted. "She can't go home, not only because she'd have to do some seriously explaining to Francie, but because she can't be anywhere SD-6 might look for her or see her. I imagine security section will be trying to track her down. Unfortunately that also rules out her staying with me. She can't stay with relatives, for the same reasons as above. And I don't think she'd make any progress alone, under constant CIA surveillance in a safehouse."  
  
"Couldn't she stay somewhere alone then?"  
  
"I don't want her alone right now. I think she needs to be with someone, someone she trust and someone who cares about her. She had more to recover from than you could possibly know, I'm afraid."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"I don't feel that Sydney's personal matters are at my liberty to discuss, Mister Vaughn."  
  
"Then why are you bringing them up? There's obviously something big going on her that no one knows about but you. Despite your talents, even you can't seem to hide that. I'm her handler, I should know what the hell is going on!" Vaughn was about to boil over with frustration.  
  
"Vaughn? Would you object if I were to ask if Sydney could stay with you?"  
  
Vaughn couldn't believe his ears.  
  
"You care about her, and she trusts you. You are nearby enough that we can still maintain contact and keep her in touch with the CIA, yet I also hope to god that no one will be looking for her there. If anything was to happen, you would be prepared."  
  
Jack looked Vaughn straight in the face. Vaughn just gaped at him.  
  
Never had he been so thrilled and so apprehensive at the same time.  
  
"Of course she can stay with me. I don't know why neither of us came up with that idea before. It makes complete sense. However, I don't know how the hell you're going to swing that one by Devlin."  
  
"I'll worry about Devlin. You worry about Sydney." Jack assured him. Jack swiftly reached for his cell phone and dialed Devlin straight away. He prepared himself for a multi-hour screaming match, but to his surprise, Devlin agreed within only a few minutes. He too thought it was the best solution, given the precarious situation at hand. Him and Vaughn's partner Agent Weiss had apparently been arguing over the topic earlier, and had come to the identical conclusion.  
  
Jack shut off his phone satisfied, and relieved that his daughter would be somewhere safe with someone who cared while she found her way back to herself. At the same time, he felt terrible for what Vaughn didn't know he was getting himself into. He smiled at the thought of his daughter and Vaughn getting to spend some quality time alone together. If anyone could bring her back, it was Vaughn, and Jack knew that. One thing the two of them had yet to learn in the business was how to hide their true feelings.  
  
  
  
That night, Vaughn went home and Jack stayed with Sydney at the hospital. Having only been home to shower and feed his dog during the past week, he could only imagine what Donovan had gotten himself into to spite him. Also, in the past few months he had become quite used to bachelor life and felt the sudden need to clean his house before Sydney came over. Despite the fact that they had known each other for nearly a year, this was still a first impression, and he definately wanted to make a good one. He changed the sheets in his spare bedroom, threw out the multitude of now-spoiled food that dominated his fridge, went shopping, and actually scrubbed the toilet, a chore he didn't remember doing before in his life.  
  
Then the nervousness set in. Vaughn found himself doing laundry, washing every type of towel found in his house.  
  
Then the absurd panic. The type that brings the need to alphabatize one's DVD collection.  
  
Finally Vaughn decided that his freaking out over something as little as the woman he was madly in love with temporarily being put under house arrest in HIS house was no reason to go completely and totally insane. He drove himself back to the hospital to wait until Sydney would be released in the morning.  
  
Jack sat with Sydney all night. She never slept. He did his best for her, but it seemed that there was little that he could do.  
  
As the sun was rising outside her hospital room window, Sydney rose to watch the colors in the sky. Her father went to stand behind her. He rested a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"They're going to release you this morning," he told her. She turned and looked into his eyes, looking happier than she had in weeks. "You're going to have to stay with Vaughn until you're fully recovered. You will be safe there, and no one will look for you at his house. Honey -- talk to him. That's what he's there for. You need to tell him everything and he will help you in any way he can."  
  
"Ok," Sydney whispered. Her father bent down to kiss her on the cheek.  
  
They watched the sun rise together. 


End file.
